Progressive Wednesday

Monday Morning Motherhood: Pop Goes the Praise Balloon

When we, as adults, go to work, we do exactly that — work. We put forth the effort necessary to do our jobs as expected and required. We are appreciative when our hard work is applauded, and enjoy reaping those benefits, whether they come in the form of a promotion, pay raise, or the key to the executive washroom (ahhh, the executive washroom). What we don't have is someone patting us on our heads, telling us how smart we are, what a good job we’re doing, how intelligent we are, like when we were kids. Damn it, I miss those days. Though, if my boss actually did pat me on the head, it would probably freak me out enough to make me find a new gig with a slightly less weird work environment.

My daughter, in my completely unbiased opinion, is brilliant. Okay, okay, maybe I'm not completely unbiased. Still, she is extremely intelligent. As a result, since she was born, I've told her so — whether it was how she always managed to drool right onto her bib, or her ability to put together a Dora the Explorer puzzle. Admit it, most of us as parents do this. Our general perspective is that by constantly praising our children for being so smart, we're helping them to achieve more, do better in school, and basically do better in life. According to a Columbia University study, 85% of parents feel that praising their child's intelligence and telling them they're smart is very important. Well, Ha, ha, ha on all of us: recent research has popped that balloon animal.

Psychologist Carol Dweck has spent the past 10 years doing research on the effect and consequence of praise on 400 students in New York public schools. The results seem astonishing. There were two sets of tests involved. For the first, children were given a nonverbal IQ test, consisting of puzzles. The puzzles were manufactured to be simple enough so the children would find them easy. After finishing, some of the students were praised for their intelligence, and the others praised for their effort. For the next test, the children had a choice of puzzles. They were informed the first choice would be harder, but that they would learn a lot. The second test was an easy one, just like the puzzle in the first test. The results, you ask? Of the children who had been praised for their effort after the first round of testing, 90% chose the harder puzzle. Alternatively, the majority of kids praised for their intelligence chose the easy test, the cop-out.

You might be pondering, Why did they do this? Dweck's research indicates that the children praised for their intelligence would rather look smart than risk the failure and embarrassment of not being able to complete the more difficult puzzles. She also discovered that a feeling of naturally being intelligent causes children to feel that since they're smart, and because they've been told this since birth, they don't value the importance of effort. They're innately smart, and therefore don't need to expend any effort. Also, believe it or not, even preschoolers aren't immune this.

Of course, praising your child's intelligence is important. I'm definitely not saying don't tell your kid they're smart. Oh, and you probably shouldn’t tell them they’re stupid, either. However, praising the effort a child puts forth seems to play a greater role in a child's development than praising intelligence. Whether they're working on a difficult math problem, trying to build a six-foot tower of Legos, or put a binkie in their mouth all by themselves, remember to commend the effort. This will assist them during their school years and beyond, encouraging them to put forth the effort needed to succeed and advance. And come on now, do you really want your kid to be the bratty, know-it-all on the playground? That’s what I thought.

The TGIF Movie Review: Ellie Parker

Let me start by saying that Ellie Parker was not produced by the Los Angeles Board of Tourism. Much of the picture painted by this Stealth Bomber of under-the-radar independent films is of a city that can dismantle the dreams of the weak-willed. (It’s no accident that a movie theater in Ellie Parker is showing the eponymous The Day of the Locust, a film based on the grotesque novel by Nathaniel West, which sticks So-Cal on a spit like a pig.)

However, this 2005 flick — apparently set during the late 90s based on the clunky cell phones — is less an indictment of L.A. as it is an engaging portrait of a woman, Ellie Parker (played exquisitely by Naomi Watts), who isn’t sure what she pines for: a career as an actor or a happy life, two things she seems to believe are mutually exclusive. At the same time, she’s neither personally content, nor professionally “successful.”

What we see feels like an authentic glimpse into the life of a struggling actor: the anxious rush of back-to-back auditions; the obligatory “That was good. We’ll get back to you.”; the discreet inveigling; and the shape-shifting of those who entertain and inform our lives through their art. Shot exclusively with a digital hand-held camera, the movie takes on a useful, visual realism: it almost looks like a documentary, one that moves from intense drama to occasional dark comedy.

As Ellie speeds from one audition to the next, we feel her nervousness, and we feel ourselves rooting for her, someone who is actually a fictional character. Ellie does her make-up and changes clothes while driving on the notorious L.A. highways. She practices her lines in the rear-view mirror, trying one version after another, criticizing herself out loud along the way. She and her best friend have a race to see who can cry more authentically first. There’s a bit of an ugly love story lingering here, but that seems less a classic Hollywood requirement of films, and more about the loneliness we all can suffer.

At one point, Ellie, during a therapist appointment, reveals her central dilemma, one most of us once understood or currently understand: “I feel like I’m waiting for my life to start. Like all that’s going on now is a big rehearsal.” And later she asks: “Remember when the future was a promise? Now it’s like a threat.” As someone who struggled for a decade to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, I couldn’t help but nod, and then nod again.

Ellie Parker reminds us that to be an artist, of any kind, involves a kind of emotional philanthropy, and that to be a viewer involves an unfortunate willingness to ignore the real lives of the people creating the fictions we relate to and, therefore, adore.

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Editor’s note: This trailer ain’t PG.

The Nitty-Gritty from the Twin Cities: More than Mowing

I am not a rich man. I have an okay job with an okay income. I live in an okay house in an okay part of an okay city. I do not pay people to help with everyday home upkeep. I vacuum my carpets, do my laundry, shovel my show, and mow my lawn.

However, if some kid came by and said “I'll mow your lawn for $5, Mister Tall Guy,– I'd pull out a sweet Lincoln for little Jimmy and down an ice-cold Rolling Rock while he sweats away. That $5 would be an absurd bargain for me.

Ladies and gentleman, I present to you AmeriCorps. A program where, each year, thousands of young men and women dedicate a year of their lives to service – “ doing all sorts of difficult and often-thankless tasks. What do they get for that year? A stipend of not even $10,000, health insurance, and an educational scholarship of $4725 (barely a semester of school at most public colleges nowadays).

Think about that. Even if you count the scholarship as money in hand, that's $7.50 per hour over the course of a year. And those AmeriCorps members aren't schlepping coffee or wiping down tables at Chipotle. They're building houses, tutoring children, feeding the poor, cleaning up polluted sites, and so on and so forth.

Some conservatives will mutter, “You shouldn't have to pay volunteers.– Well, the military is all-volunteer, isn't it? No one would ever dare suggest not paying the military. There are many ways to serve America selflessly, and our government should encourage that in whatever way possible.

I can appreciate the libertarian view of limiting government as much as possible. However, the practical, real-world, value-oriented part of me sees AmeriCorps as one of the most absurdly great bargains out there for my tax dollars. Now, if I can only find a kid to mow my lawn for $5.

The only thing we have to fear ain’t: identity theft.

Editor’s note: This is the first entry of a new occasional column at Progressive Wednesday. Each post will bust a myth created by fear-mongers, years of tradition, advertisers, the mainsteam media, general skittishness, or koala bears. I mention koalas because they freak me out. Why do they freak me out? Read this for yourself — and I quote: “Before a 6-month old koala is fully weaned, the koala leans out to eat mom’s excrement directly from her anus. Pap [scientists' fancy word for this muck] is rich in microorganisms that are essential in breaking down hard-to-digest eucalyptus leaves.” So, anyway, on to the first column. We hope to make FDR happy.

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“They” want you terrified of identity theft, but identity theft happens so infrequently, it’s all but a myth.

I’m not saying it doesn’t happen. I’m not saying use your 401K forms as Christmas wrap. I’m not saying if you run out of business cards then hand someone your credit card. I’m not even saying stop shredding sensitive documents (hell, if nothing else, it’s kind of fun), though most identity theft doesn’t occur from people rummaging through your trash. But I am going to say this…

According to the magazine Wired*, the odds of ever being the victim of identity theft is 29 in 1000.** That’s only 2.9% of us. Rest easy. Dream of your social security number dancing the mambo with your driver’s license as your medical records watch on, utterly delighted.

If you do want to take some actions, this article is for you. But we’ll be napping. Let us know when you’re done.

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* Thompson, Clive. Wired Dec 2006: 56.

**Sure, if you lose your wallet, you’re a little screwed. Or if your company gets hacked and your financial records become exposed, well, that could spell more than a tidbit of trouble.

Monday Morning Motherhood: Spare the Rod

My last column was about discipline, a subject I'm continuing to cover this week. I previously wrote about time-outs and teaching, and my personal use of and success with these tools. Now I'd like to delve into the subject of spanking, a topic that tends to be controversial. My views may not be that of your own, and I certainly don't think that my perspective is the only valid one. I don't feel that physical punishment is appropriate. As adults, we aren't allowed to hit each other, so why on earth should we hit our children? That said, studies have shown that over 90% of parents of toddlers admit they have spanked their kid at least one time, so I may be in the minority here.

The argument over whether to spank or not has gained further momentum by some recent articles on MSNBC and LiveScience. An article in LiveScience also gives an analysis of homes in which children receive physical punishment. Homes with books and educational games are less likely to use corporal punishment. Homes in rural areas and the South are more likely to spank. The economic status of family doesn't seem to make a difference in whether or not kids are spanked. Moms are reported to spank more than dads do, and boys get spanked more than girls do.

In California, Assemblywoman Sally Lieber has introduced a bill to make it illegal to spank children under 4 years old. The punishment for this misdemeanor? A year in jail and/or a fine up to $1000. Though I'm not sure why children over 4 years old shouldn't be offered the same protection, I think this is a great bill. We need to show our children the same respect that we expect of them. We wouldn't tolerate them hitting anyone, so we shouldn't tolerate us hitting them.

Research has shown that children who behave better and have fewer behavior problems come from homes with increased intellectual stimulation and a “teaching– approach to discipline, rather than a physical one. Physical punishment, in the long run, doesn't work. While it may curb bad behavior temporarily, teaching your child the correct behavior is what is going to make a difference down the road. Also, put yourself in your child's place. Wouldn't you prefer not to be hit? Wouldn't discussing the behavior and thinking of alternative behaviors be more palatable than being hit? I sure as heck (maybe even hell) think so.

Our children, to pay homage to Ms. Houston, are our future. What we show them and how we behave has an enormous impact on their lives, and in turn, the lives of others. So why not show them that talking and teaching are much better tools than hitting and yelling? Violence begets violence. Show them that violence is not the proper tool to convey frustration and anger. Teach them to use their words. Words have the power to change the world and make it a better place. Besides, these are the people that will one day pick your nursing home. Be nice to them. Don't you want the home with 24-hour shuffleboard and cute nurses? I thought so.

The TGIF Movie Review: The Prestige

After watching The Prestige, I feel like a magician. Part of me wants to tell you the secrets behind the tricks of this flick, but the majority of me doesn’t.

Much like Memento, also directed by Christopher Nolan, The Prestige is told out of sequence, and this maneuver works rather brilliantly here as a method of smoke and mirrors for the telling of this tale. The tale, without giving too much away, goes like this:

Two up-and-coming magicians, Robert Angier (played by Hugh Jackman) and Alfred Borden (played by Christian Bale), work together for an elder prestidigitator, played by real-life illusionist (and real-life actor) Ricky Jay. The two men fight and compete a bit about what makes the best abracadabras possible. All tricks, we learn, are made up of three parts:

1. The Pledge: we’re shown something that appears ordinary.
2. The Turn: the ordinary does something extraordinary.
3. The Prestige: well, that’s the effect it has on us — a kind of confused belief.

While assisting, Borden ties the wrong knot during a trick, which has costly ramifications for Angier. (Pardon my vagueness. I’d rather not give much away.) After this event, the two men start a dangerous rivalry — at stake is professional glory and personal vengeance. There are gun shots, the science and mystical qualities of electricity, sabotages, disguises, doubles, thievery, love affairs, lies and more lies and lies about the lies, and even David Bowie shows up playing a key figure in the film. The two do battle through, amongst other things, diaries, performances, and allies. No one is to be trusted, and as a result, what we think one moment might be true about the story we’re not convinced is true the next.

This is a movie ruminating obsessions and competition. This movie is a dark love song to thaumaturgy. This is a movie about the myth of complete honesty. This movie fulfills its billing: we’re shown things; those things do the unexpected; and what those things do make us question what’s real.

I’ll close by quoting the opening line of the movie, a line that serves as a warning and a sincere question, both for the movie and for our lives: “Are you watching closely?” I’ve discovered the answer. The answer, of course, goes like this: “Not closely enough.”

See for yourself:

What’s in Carey Mack’s Pocket?: A Primer

My first second contribution to Progressive Wednesday explains the title of my columns to follow– ¦

When I was in college, I was an orientation assistant, fairly alone on a university campus in northwest Indiana. The residence halls had visitation hours — no men in women's wings after 12 during the week or 2 on the weekends. No alcohol. However, we (the other OAs and I) got to stay in the dorms unfettered, and one night we slept in the Union. Another night we played “Beirut– and drank lots of beer in one of the lounges. It owned, as the youngsters of today say.

So, one game that we played during that formative time was a game called “What's in Carey Mack's Pocket?– I’m sure my friend Ian's intentions were marginally risqué — as risqué as Ian would get in public. This game he invented was kind of a private Lutheran University version of “Is that a plantain in your pants or are you just happy to see me?– So there we were, with Carey Mack in her overall shorts, shorts which I loved because they were somewhat hippie-ish. I guess as hippie-ish as a girl could get who had a blonde bob haircut and looks wholesome enough that people bend the rules for her — a lot. (I am not complaining.)

Anyway, I had some great overall shorts that I made out of overalls from Farm and Fleet. I cut them off. I bleached them out. I tried to soften them as much as I could. I could have had a completely secret life going on in my pocket.

This is where this column gets its name. It's a metaphor.

You see, Garrison Keillor (of American Public Media) always starts out his monologues, his “News from Lake Wobegon,– with the words, “It's been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon, my hometown– ¦.– If I had a radio show, I would probably start all of my monologues with the words, “It's been a heady week in My Own Personal New York City.–

“My Own Personal New York City– and “Carey Mack's Pocket– are the same thing. And my own personal New York City is different from Anne Lamott's: in hers, people yell at each other all the time; people in my own personal New York City yell at people less.

What's in Carey Mack's Pocket? is the way that I experience the world as this complicated, amazing, sad, hilarious mix of lotsa, lotsa different people. I will add this twist. It is what I think about a lot. It is this: hope.

The telos (or end) of my spiritual commitments is this — hope. This is not a coincidence. I had a conversion experience in which I consciously began looking for hope. Moreover, it was not just a change in epistemology. It was an internal reclamation of something that I value highly. I found myself moved by this quote from Martin Luther King, Jr.: “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.– I believe, inspired a whole lot by the ideas about which Cornel West speaks, that there is extraordinary power in hoping. In hope. That is what I expect to share (in pocket-sized offerings).